a sweet princess
by Miss Manic Dysfunction
Summary: Merope was born in Rabastre, the second-worst Hold in a Pern where dragonmen and Lords oppress those they ought to protect. Yet she was destined for great things, for better or for worse...
1. Prologue

**Irichan is an alternate steampunk Pern site that's darker than most Weyrs like to go. If interested, contact me. It's got crazy religion and awesome machines and a guy with hair down past his ass. We'd love to have you!**

* * *

Pern was a beautiful world when they found it. It was clean, pure, good. Those who founded the colonies set out to create an agrarian society in which every man could be free of the boundaries of religion and war. This was where all were equal to work and live as they chose, a low-tech society that would free them of wars with alien races such as the Nathi.

It would be odd for them not to look at history and realize that would not last. Ignore the threat of Thread or the creation of the dragons; America was founded on the same principles of freedom and agriculture. And dragons being peaceful, wonderful creatures is just ludicrous. No race in the history of man has ever been able to avoid the essential truth of nature: murder. So long as man breathes, there will be war. And even if the founders didn't have religion, wouldn't it form slowly over the years? Philosophy has always been about, and I doubt people would be willing to just drop their beliefs because some aliens decided to attack them. As far as technology goes, people advance. We've always been builders, thinkers, and inventors.

Let's pretend that people on Pern aren't perfect. Let's pretend Pern has the same logic as Earth. Now, let's say Ruth and Ramoth and all those folk didn't exist, and when Aivas was discovered, he was hidden from the world by a dragonkind failing to hold a candle to the standards of new industrial technology. Let's say dragons aren't exempt from human or animal faults, and that people build cities using the power of their minds. Let's say Anne McCaffery's utopia was crushed by the destructive qualities of human nature, or that William Golding, Jack London, Stephen Crane, and the Suspension of Disbelief Fairy got together and decided to rain on the Happy Parade.

This, my friend, is Irichan's Pern.

* * *

Rabastre was a horrible place to live. There was no way of getting around it: no one wanted to be there, except for the upper class and the businessmen who swindled their way around the city's many proletarians. Its streets were cobbled brick, charred with the flame throwers that got rid of the Thread that fell this late in the Pass. Thread was no longer as threatening as it used to be; the falls weren't heavy, lasting perhaps four hours every week or so in any given reason, and the flaming airships usually got rid of all of it. No, people no longer worried half as much as they used to, and that was why Rabastre existed.

Rabastre had three general areas: the industrial zone, the residential area, and the Lord's home, which also incorporated other noble residences. The residential area was on the south side of the Orul River, and the social ladder placed you in the poor areas, the middle-class areas, and the streets. The poor area is where our story begins. The streets are darkening, and men and women are shuffling in on foot or in street cars, shoulders slumped from days at the factory. The ikuzu are noticing the dark and smaller ones can be seen slipping out of the sewer grates. A woman stands in the doorway of one of the homes, waiting for her husband like she always did. Her eyes are far away as she strokes the pendant on her collarbone. It's too nice for a woman like her, and the neighbors know it. But she wears it anyway, a constant reminder of who owns her.

"Mom."

Alasta turns, tired eyes finding the slight figure of a girl no older than eleven turns. Her hair might have been blonde, but in the Rabastran filth it couldn't be determined. A skinny blue fire-lizard sits on her shoulder, watching Astara with his beady, jewel-toned eyes.

"He's not coming home," the girl says.

"I'm not waiting for him, Merope." But she's lying, and Merope can tell. It has been this way ever since the accident. Torek fell in the factories. The bosses didn't even have the decency to give them his final paycheck. Then Asterope left to find something better; Merope figured that she hadn't gotten her queen dragon, or if she had, she no longer cared about her mother and sister.

And Alasta turns back to the door every night, staring out until the streets are dark and no one wants to be outside. She is waiting, waiting for the slumped figure of her husband to tell her that he's not dead, or of the blonde, pretty face of her daughter to cry of her Impression to the finest Gold on Pern.

Most days, no one comes. And so, Alasta has whatever food Merope managed to scrape together from her job in the Lord's house and goes to bed, listening to her daughter cry herself to sleep in the next room. And so she would lie there, thinking of all sorts of things. Would Asterope come back? Was she even alive?

The Sun of the Church is on her wall, but Alasta doesn't believe that the Church will save her. She has it only because of R'ghu, and even then the bronze rider would not take her daughter to the Weyr. Little does she know that things will one day change...


	2. You Think It's Bad Now

**AHAHAHA Merope, special and wonderful and clever. Ah, yes, special? Perhaps. She's the only gold rider I have ever seen that has no idea what she's doing with her Weyr. She didn't expect to be Senior and is fortunate that there are numerous other folk who will bother to run the Weyr for her. I think her only brilliant move, ever, was to spur Enthalda into stemming the chaos of a dual green flight at a gather, and it was by pointing out that the Fort Weyrleader's bronze was chasing. Her other actions? Not so much. She abuses her power to bring hell to those she hates, kinda like how a Suethor has her Mary Sue beat up characters she hates. She let a traitor get extremely close to her and had no idea that he was keeping vital information from her until it was too late. She can hardly stop the murders that happen under her nose, because she doesn't know how. Yep. Definitely not another Lessa—she can hear all dragons, but I don't abuse the power in RP and it's a wonderful paranoia factor for anyone who is scheming against the Church.**

**So yes, this story is going to be depressing. It's meant to be; Merope is a sad, miserable example of how the Church doesn't only make life hell for Blue and Green riders, but for Gold riders as well. And she's characterized as a paranoid, vicious woman who has been hurt before in the past and is determined not to be hurt again, so she has to have a past that explains why she has that mindset. People aren't born jaded and afraid. This also is a wonderful way of saying "Impressing Gold doesn't solve all your problems!" I don't really remember much of the "gold-miracle" in the books, but it's in the fans and I hate it. Ugh.**

**So yeah. Anywho, on to write more. And yes, Octo, little U'rz, oh yay . Hurrah for describing somewhat adorable versions of our future Junior/Senior Weyrleader. Also has a bit of Ska, since she's still in the house at this point. I don't feel too comfortable describing Boaz, since I never saw him in much more than Cbox banters where I'en announced that Boaz was his new favorite person, so he will only be mentioned.**

**As for the rest of the Irichan members, I will try to make references to other characters, but there won't be that many. This is my excuse for not writing Merope's history on her profile.**

It was a beautiful day for rain. Really. Just bloody perfect. If there was anything Merope loved more than being dropped into the Orul, it was rain. She just prayed for the day she could come to mop marble floors and polish gold dragon statues while trying not to die of pneumonia.

Eleven Turns was too young for a girl to be laboring away as a paid worker. The old term "drudge" was still used, though drudgery was outlawed eons ago. "Slavery," Fort had said, "is hardly complementary to our glorious Faranth. We are all born of her, and we are all her children. No man shall own another." _It'd be wonderful if that were true,_ Merope thought. She got a fourth-mark a day for slaving like this, and sometimes the boss-lady would "forget" to pay her or decide that Merope had broken some made-up rule and thus didn't deserve her pay.

She understood now why her father complained that the members of the upper class were criminals. She was sitting here polishing a solid gold statue that was almost as big as she was, and yet her hands alone could point out the injustice. Raw red skin and bloodied knuckles served as the proof that she worked hard, and that the chemicals in the soap were too corrosive for anyone to touch, let alone a girl whose breasts hadn't even grown in yet. Then there were the work hours, which on a usual day were bad enough. But this week put the blood cherry on the shit cake.

Lord Dakq had two sons, and the elder would be having a birthday in less than a week. It wasn't enough of an event to merit a proper Gather, but many influential people would be visiting House Rabastre for a meal and some dancing. Whispers in the hall claimed that Enthalda herself would be there, and that put Headwoman Medri on her toes.

"Can't have the Icon thinking we're a bunch of pigs!" Medri yelled this to the point where Merope was certain that Medri had some sexual fantasy about Fort's Weyrwoman taking one look at the ballroom, smiling, and saying, "This is a really nice place."

Merope sighed and threw her rag back into the cleaning cart. "Dunno why this is necessary," she grumbled. "Already cleaner'n a nunnery." Now to do the baseboards. Merope bent to the lower half of the cart, grabbing the handle of a bucket full of soapy water. Despite her efforts, it would not move. She swore, flushed, checked to see that no one heard her, then tried again. This time, the bucket inched up out of its holder.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon," she whispered as she pulled harder. And then, it came free.

Unfortunately, it did not come out neatly. Merope fell back with the now-empty bucket in her hands, slipping on the soapy water and falling back-first onto the marble floor. She could fell the slimy soap against her skin, and knew she should probably stand up before it began to eat into her pores, but there was no motivation. Why bother? Everything she had done up until this point was a wasted effort. Medri would never be satisfied and wouldn't pay her, and then Merope would have to swipe food from the kitchen so she and Momma could eat. Medri hadn't caught her yet, but when the Headwoman found out, Merope would be out of a job. And then what? This was the best place to work in the city if you were an unskilled laborer; other noble families payed a half mark a week and she'd have to live with them, without Momma.

There was the industry district, but the bosses there worked men and women hard. Women didn't earn as much and were likely to be coerced into prostitution. Her father died in those factories, and many of her friends and their fathers also suffered under those conditions. As a child, Merope would sit next to her father's chair on the Seventh Day and listen to him talk with the other men about work conditions. One man told a story about how his son collapsed one day while leaving and no one bothered to help him up. His son had a bad leg since birth, but worked hard to keep his family from starving. He cried for assistance for hours. Merope listened with wide eyes and her father told her to leave, but she didn't. She still had nightmares of giant ikuzu creeping from the darkness of her room, gnashing their large, sharp teeth and moving their mutated hands, the ones that grew from their mid-torso and that grabbed and squeezed and tore...

But Merope would not go to the factories unless it was her only option. She could do what Asterope did and try to run off to a Weyr. But that was three years ago, and still there was no word. Of the Dragon Weyrs, Merope was told nothing. People on the street and maids in the Lord's House whispered about the new Weyr, Irichan, and how Brissena had executed anyone who spoke out against her. The priests and the Lord hailed the coming of Brissena and her gold Airunth, and Rabastre gladly adjusted her tithes to favor Irichan instead of the Topaz Outpost. But of what the Weyrs were really like, Merope did not know. She knew that R'ghu was a wealthy bronze rider, and also the Weyrleader, but nothing more than what Sholanoth told her. R'ghu didn't talk to her. He wanted her to go away so he could take Alasta to the Weyr and keep her there in his harem until he got bored with her, and then what would happen?

She opened her eyes a tad, then shut them again. Her mother would have a better life if it wasn't for her. R'ghu had shown them glimpses of riches that Merope and Asterope had only dreamed about. His home was probably as nice as this one, and there would be food all the time, and no cleaning to do, and no waiting until midnight for the appearance of a missing sister or a dead father. She sighed. Perhaps if she lied here long enough, she would disappear the way dragons do and then she could go anywhere she wanted.

A cold flash signaled that something had entered or left _between_, but it wasn't her. Merope could only think of one thing that would bother coming to her, and she sat up just in time to have a blue fire-lizard land on her shoulder. He crooned with concern and nuzzled her chin and jaw, but she ignored him and scoured the room with her eyes.

"Svolska," she whispered, trying her hardest not to draw attention from anyone that might be lurking in the halls, "you're not supposed to be here." The blue chirped. He knew that! Merope could feel his concern and rubbed his tiny head. "I do love you, Svolska, but you know that if Medri caught you in here I would get fired." He sent her a picture of fire, and then cocked his head. "No, not flamed. I would lose my job. And then there would be no more food." He understood that, and he hissed as he curled closer to her. "I know that you care for me, Svolska, but really." She kissed his head. "I'm fine. Really. I just fell."

"Looked like more'n that to me."

The voice came from nowhere. Merope jumped and grabbed Svolska. The blue screeched and wriggled in her grasp. His eyes whirled red; he wanted to know who was here and making his Bonded frightened!

"Hey, hey, calm down." The bookcase in the corner moved a foot from the wall and a tall, dark-haired girl stood up. "You're a bit young for my tastes, and I'm not going to hurt you."

Merope didn't move to stand. There was no way she could, as the soap prevented movement. But she tightened her grip on Svolska. "Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you in here?" The words flew off her tongue so fast that she was surprised that the other girl caught each one.

"Ska," she said. "Illska Gijack, actually. Horrible name, but the rest of my family has some pretty awful names as well." Ska placed an arm on the bookshelf and then hoisted herself onto the wood, perching there to watch Merope from a safe distance. "As for what I'm doing, I'm hiding, see?" She laughed. "My li'l brother and I are playing Hide and Seek, yep. It keeps us out of the way and out of trouble, and you can never underestimate peace in this hellpit." A momentary flash of disgust crossed Ska's face, but it passed and the self-confident smirk returned. "And as for you, what's your name? And that pretty blue of yours, too. He's gorgeous. Always wanted a flit myself, but I got Pete and lemme tell you, those Shaltiri Riding Wherries _hate_ fire-lizards."

Merope listened, though a cold stab went through her stomach as Ska spoke. Upon hiring, she was told to learn the names of all the members of Rabastre's First Family. She was also told to stay out of their way, which was why that after six months on the job, she hadn't talked to a single one. She was told that Lord Dakq and his Lady were cold, vicious, and violent. Sometimes she could hear someone screaming in the next room, and someone getting smacked, and things breaking. She had seen a bit of the family, and the memories of the bruises on the faces of the boys made her grateful for her mother.

She didn't trust Ska, however, and Ska could tell. "I'm not like them, you know." She nodded her head at the large portrait of the Lord and his Lady. "I'm pro'lly the only person here that won't gut you for breathing." With that, she stepped off her perch and walked over to the cleaning cart. "Need some help?"

Merope quivered. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"'Cause I can." Ska grasped one of the mop handles and pulled the cleaning utensil free. Merope watched as a trapped animal watches a hunter move outside the bars. But Ska made no move to hit her, and she even got enough of the water for Merope to stand up. Merope darted to the other side of the cleaning cart, Svolska still in her hands. Soon the floor was clean and Ska grinned from ear to ear as she admired her reflection in the smooth marble floor.

"There ain't nothing like hard work," she said. "Whether it's training Pete or helping servants or fixing up whatever the hell I can get my hands on, I love being busy." Despite her fear, Merope's heart wrenched. Ska was miserable, perhaps as much as Merope. Ska might not have said it or showed it, but Merope could tell that the misery and confinement was there.

She was about to tell Ska her name and thank her properly when a boy of around eight turns charged in. "Jackie!" Ska's head jerked up. "You're supposed to be hiding!" he barked. "How can I find you if you're just standing around?"

Ska stuck out her lower jaw and glared daggers at the child. "Well, for your information Uarz, I _was _hiding, but alas, chivalry demanded that I show my face." Her snide tone combined with Uarz's indignant actions reminded Merope of her own sister. There was love between Ska and Uarz, and the proof came when Ska bolted over and grabbed the boy by the arm and started tickling him and yelling about how much of a little turd he was. Ska seemed like the kind of girl that did what she wanted, when she wanted, and now Merope saw why Ska didn't abandon this place for something better.

But Asterope didn't love Merope or Momma enough to stay. Asterope thought of herself first, and that was why she hadn't come back. Merope bit her tongue to keep from crying. Uarz bolted down the hall, and Ska didn't even look back as she chased after her brother. Perhaps it was for the best. She ordered Svolska to go away before someone caught her with him. Then she was left to finish her work in peace.

Medri actually paid her, and Merope got out of work before the sun set. It was safe to walk, and she'd be able to save her pitiful pay instead of buying a ticket on the street car. Tomsa, the nicest cook in the kitchens, hadn't gotten off yet. She gave Merope a hefty portion of lunch's leftovers and sent the girl on her way. The rain had even let up. It was misting, but no longer raining pitchers like it had been earlier, and so Merope ran home with her parcel of food close to her chest and Svolska flying overhead.

On the way to her home, she pretended she was an airship pirate. When she was in a good enough mood, Merope acted like the child she used to be. In her mind, she was a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed woman with skin the color of a wheat field rather than some tiny blond whose eyes were boring brown and skin white as alabaster. Svolska wasn't just a fire-lizard, he was an actual dragon. He was strong and brave and smart as any bronze, and together they were the most feared dragon riding pirate pair ever to breathe the air. But what were they doing in Rabastre?

Hmm...

They were going to save a bunch of poor workers from a boss who kept taking their wives down to the Third District where all the whore-ladies were. Yes! And maybe when they were on the way, they would meet a brave young lad who was penniless and desperate to help save his mother and sister and father. He would be strong and handsome and kind and he would save her when she was in danger, but it was she, Merope of Blue Svolska (she didn't know enough dragons to know the naming restrictions), that would save the day. And in the end she would marry her handsome young man and they would go... Somewhere. Somewhere green, where grass grew everywhere and not between cracks in the sidewalks.

And perhaps they would have another adventure, only this time her husband would be her sidekick. But she didn't have time to make herself another story before she made it home. And then the color faded, the image left, Svolska became a fire-lizard, and she found herself staring into the yawning face of a brown shanty that was falling apart at the edges. This was their home. This was her reality.

The door was closed but not bolted. The front room was empty, but she could hear voices in the back room. R'ghu was here. Her stomach sank as she put her leftovers in the fridge and grabbed the last of the prior night's bounty. She ate in silence, feeding bits of meat to Svolska and watching him snap them up. "I wish you were a dragon," she whispered to the blue. "Then you could take me far away, and we wouldn't be here."

_Pity that you would want a blue, Little Fledgling._ Merope's mood lightened considerably when Sholanoth's deep voice filled her mind. _There are much finer things than blues, you know._

_Like what?_

_Like myself, for instance. _Merope rolled her eyes at Sholanoth's tone. _No, it's true! _But she knew when Sholanoth was kidding, and she knew that the bronze was hardly as biased as his rider.

If there was one good thing about R'ghu's visits, it was Sholanoth. He was the only dragon Merope had ever met. She had seen others, of course, and always knew when a dragon was near-by, but she hadn't talked to any but Sholanoth. Her knowledge of dragon riders was limited, and the fact that she had a unique gift had never occurred to her. Sholanoth told no one of their conversations, and never implied that she was special. Merope figured that everyone could talk to dragons like that, since the riders spoke mind-to-mind with their dragons and no one had ever said that they couldn't.

She talked to the bronze until she ran out of things to talk about. He took interest in her day, and was probably the only creature that did. Alasta would listen over dinner when R'ghu wasn't in the house, but she always looked off to the distance and stopped talking after a while. Sholanoth, on the other hand, adored the attention Merope gave him. At one point he had mentioned that eventually riders don't talk to their dragons about everything. He seemed sad, and Merope wished she could meet him face-to-face and stroke his massive eye-ridges, doing the job that R'ghu no longer did.

She didn't cry that night, not with Sholanoth there. He managed to drown out the sounds of her mother and R'ghu in the next room. He told her stories of his Weyr, listed things he picked out of his rider's mind, and sent her images of the night sky above Rabastre. He repeated himself often, but Merope didn't care. She pulled the night-covers close to her. Svolska curled up against her chest and yawned as he pressed against her body. Merope slept without fear of nightmares, for Svolska and Sholanoth were her best friends, and they would never hurt her.

**We had an "Advice for Irichan" thread in our OOC boards. SOCR mentioned how happiness on Irichan was the warm, wonderful feeling you got right before your hopes and dreams were shattered with an iron fist.**

**I almost feel bad for Merope, but then again she gets to keep her kid and her dragon. Can't say the same for Rush and K'ran.**

**Oh well.**


	3. A Stroke of Luck

** killed my music notes. My soul cries for their slaughtered beauty and the elegant way they broke up paragraphs.**

**Irichan is currently closed but it lives on in fan fiction. Maybe one day I shall revive it, though at the moment the other admin is busy and I don't feel comfortable keeping up a Weyr that wasn't wholly mine. Merope still has a story to tell, though. And so I shall tell it.**

**I have half a mind to rename this story "crooked as a criminal". Perhaps the most fitting song for Merope is Criminal by Hotspur, one that I use as well as She's Got to Go, Her Majesty, and Young and Reckless. Mmmm Hotspur. Regardless, it was between that or the current title. **

**Reasoning for title: Merope actually was an adoptable character on a site that I now shudder when someone mentions it. Though she was a Mary Sue like every other character the admin made, there was some potential there. And I took her because she stood out. She was "the tough, anti-romantic" gold rider who tried to give firestone to her precious Bressith. I think I caught the idea of fighting gold spot-on and then evolved her into a cruel, heartless creature. Playing her in that initial state made my inner Kingdom Hearts role player very happy: I felt as if I was playing Larxene. Larxene, the Apathetic Princess (her Japanese title, as opposed to the Savage Nymph; I actually have Beliou who fits that title, and the gold I got for Bella was actually named Nympth). And then Merope started letting me in, which was so much easier than trying to get to know Beliou or Naraez. I treat my characters like people: they start as concepts and I get to know them as time goes on. And Merope... She went from her initial Warrior Princess Mary Sue to the Larxene of Pern to her own character.**

**And yes, Irichan is the reason that most Pern sites can change their ratings from "dark" to "average". After Merope's freak-out on Alexis and then her condoning of Naraez's revenge and her general habit of taking out her own problems on everyone else, and after Thealea's methods of executing blues and greens, and after Enthalda's... everything, no other gold rider can scare me. Let's face it: you can't get much worse than choosing random blue/green riders and having them and their dragons executed and then feeding the dragons to your dragon and the people to your weyrleader and daughter. Oh, yeah, and wearing the skin at Gathers. And brain-washing people. And allowing your brainwashed zombie worshiper and your daughter to implant their hands with metal spikes. And stuffing your enemies and mounting them in your sitting room. And to cut it short, being Enthalda. I'd sign this ridiculously long note with blood but this is the Internet. Oh well.**

**Ciao now brown cow,**

**MMD**

–

_Breathe and I'll carry you away_

_Into the velvet sky_

_And we'll stir the stars around_

_And watch them fall away_

_Into the Hudson Bay_

_And plummet out of sight and sound_

–

Merope woke with enough time to hear Sholanoth's farewells. She rushed outside in her nightclothes and stood on the streets in hopes of seeing him take off, and fortune seemed to favor her. To the South, the sight of a great bronze could be seen against the brightening sky. She knew he could not see her, but she waved regardless. She held Svolska close as they watched the dragon rise, circle, and then vanish as if he had never been there at all. And after a few moments of watching the place where she last saw him, she realized that she would have to eat on the way to work.

The house was silent. Alasta was out and about, her face haggard and hair in her eyes. She tried to turn away when Merope came in, but she was not quick enough. The girl halted, eyes widening as she bit her lip.

"He hit you." Merope pointed at the purple skin on Alasta's face.

"He didn't." The woman crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. "He and I were... Playing around and I tripped and we both hit the door."

"Don't lie to me!"

"Don't scream."

"He's hurting you, Momma, he wants to take you away from me! He's bad!"

"Merope--"

"I hate him! I—I—"

Alasta slapped Merope's face, then grabbed the girl's shoulder and bent to Merope's level. "Merope, I don't lie to you." The girl looked away and Alasta shook her, forcing eye contact. "Look at me. Listen—_Look_ at me!—I know you don't like him, but he's not cruel. He's what keeps us from becoming homeless. He would take me to the Weyr if he didn't understand my obligations to you. He would take you as well should I ask him, but I don't want you there."

Merope was stone silent. Alasta tried not to slap her. There was no point in the lecture—the girl was a fool and a stubborn one at that. Finally Alasta released her and watched as she dressed and quickly shuffled out the door. After a few minutes alone in the house, Alasta sank back onto her bed and began to sob. R'ghu didn't strike her, but Merope believed that he did. The look in the girl's eyes struck Alasta through her heart. She rolled onto her side and moaned. If only her husband and Asterope were here. Then everything would be better.

-x-

Though it was certainly possible to travel directly to the Weyr, R'ghu had Sholanoth emerge from _between _above the mountain chain known as the Marchon Spine. The jagged mountaintops and rugged cliffs gave the chain its name. These huge mountains not only sheltered Irichan and Rabastre, but Tuchere and Rolund valley were also hidden within these behemoths. Arestal, which grew mostly food-stuffs and traded extremely well, boasted fertile soil and clean air. Garnet Outpost had once stood beside it, but it had since been destroyed. Topaz, the Outpost Head, was also in this chain. But Topaz, a combat-based Outpost designed to protect the industrial giant Rabastre, was crumbling. Irichan's presence did not disturb much. If Topaz had retained its former glory, Brissena might have overlooked the location. But former lords had pushed Topaz to near-bankruptcy, and the current Lord Topaz had married his sister from a lack of wives. No children came from the marriage, and the Lady had died long ago. It wasn't long before Topaz toppled as well. Then the fate of the Outposts would be murky; Topaz had long-since claimed that Garnet and Opal would take control should it crumble. Fort had destroyed Garnet and while the Opal family remained, they held only figurative influence. Jade, being the second bronze Outpost, would naturally succeed power. But the young Lord Sapphire, a yellow-rider whose ambition and pride cost the very foreleg of his dragon, had ambition and pride aplenty. Lord Jade had fallen from favor because his brother had been the late Lord Garnet; there was no way Fort would give Jade power, regardless of Outpost "autonomy". So Amethyst and Sapphire would be choices, and what a fight _that _would be.

R'ghu knew what such affairs from the Outposts would cause. There would be rifts and unease and political tensions that as Weyrleader of Irichan he would be _required_ to resolve. Irichan was the youngest Weyr, so the Lords would strike it first. Telgar, being the weakest, would be another target, and then Benden or Fort would depend on what the Lord found the most challenging. Benden was strong and numerous; Shanaie stood on the fence between holding Church values, but she commanded more dragons than any other woman on Pern. Fort had the power of Pern; Enthalda had her fingers wrapped around so many secret technologies that no one knew how much control she really had. Rumors of Enthalda's special forces were told all the time. Some reports said she might have a wing entirely of girls who heard dragons and spoke to them. And so the need to find a counter to Enthalda's control pressed constantly at the back of R'ghu's mind.

He was certain he had found her. Most Dragon Speakers went to Enthalda, but not this one. And how she tried to hide it! The silly woman should _know_ that lying and sneaking would only make R'ghu suspect her more. Alasta could fight, but eventually R'ghu would win. There was only one problem with her, however. Though choosing a woman for his harem was a fairly simple manner, he could not simply_ take _a woman that he intended on turning into a loyal spy. If only he could eliminate the obstacle keeping her from him...

_The girl is such a nuisance,_ R'ghu said to Sholanoth when the bronze pressed his mind for clarification. _She keeps me from claiming her mother._

_Why not just take the woman?_

R'ghu snorted then urged the bronze to the left. He didn't want to fly into the Weyr at the moment, and neither did Sholanoth. The bronze fanned in his wings, dipped a few inches, then expanded his wings and swooped gracefully to another direction. As soon as Sholanoth righted himself, R'ghu continued to speak. _Because if I separate her from her child, Alasta will starve herself damn near to death. If she doesn't die, she'll hate me. And then what use will she be?_

_Could we not take the child as well?_

_Her mother doesn't want her to be "exposed" to the Weyr._ The Weyrleader rolled his eyes. _So I'll wait until she can't help but come with me. And then I'll have her._

Sholanoth rumbled and said no more. The two flew in silence until they crossed over Jag-Tooth Mountain and Sholanoth looped around it. Then they flew back. By this time the sun was up and shining down on Sholanoth's deep, green-brown hide. R'ghu leaned back against the dragon's massive neck, watching the sky with his own eyes and the direction with Sholanoth's.

It did not take long for the Weyr to come into view. Irichan prided itself on being the most uniquely built Weyr on the face of Pern. Brissena had it carved into a massive inactive volcano, and the outside had been layered to show the ranks of those that lived within it. These outside ledges also made it convenient for the massive dragons to land. Sholanoth swooped to the second-highest ledge and landed. Before them was the entrance to the luxurious Weyrleader's caverns, where none but R'ghu had ever claimed. This was no great feat: Airunth was a small gold and Sholanoth was a large bronze. The few Flights held since the Weyr's beginning made it all the more easy to claim the position again and again.

As soon as Sholanoth fanned his wings, a troupe of eager attendants charged out to aid the Weyrleader off the giant bronze's neck. Once R'ghu was down, they busied themselves with getting Sholanoth's straps off. Being almost forty-five meters in length, Sholanoth's care was impossible for one person even in the days when bronze riders didn't have harems and personal entourages. R'ghu's head servant was there to make sure the straps were sent to get cleaned. The Weyrleader gave the order that he was not to be disturbed and then retired from Sholanoth's lounge and passed into the sanctity of his quarters.

Sprawling, luxurious, and comfortable, the Weyrleader's quarters were one of the few weyrs with a personal shower. R'ghu certainly looked forward to abusing this feature. Alasta's shower hardly sprayed more water than her sink, and his other option was the bronze riders' bathing pools. He'd normally head there and enjoy a massage and light socialization, but he didn't feel like being around others at the moment. He entered his sleeping room and began to dig through his bureau. He had just pulled out a pair of clean linens when he heard something move behind him. Before he had been relaxed. Now he stood up straight, clenching his fists and reaching into the top drawer of his bureau. Cold steel met his hand—R'ghu drew the gun slowly, keeping his ears alert. Then came another rustle, then breathing. There was no difference between three seconds and three hours. Nothing but foreign breathing and R'ghu's pounding heart could be heard.

And then the Weyrleader whirled, cocking the gun and pointing it straight at the leering, vicious face of—

—an empty chair.

R'ghu lowered his gun and leaned back in confusion. Hadn't there—?

"Good morning, Weyrleader!"

"Gaah!"

Bang!

Dust filled the air. R'ghu and his "assailant" coughed and wheezed until the debris settled. Grimacing, R'ghu noticed that the nice wooden chest, one he had received upon Impressing Sholanoth, now sported a gaping, splintered hole. Its contents were likely damaged as well, which only added insult to injury as each item within the chest held sentimental value.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the intruder move. The face was unmistakable— the young man had yet to cement his place as Irichan's Monster Under Your Bed, Naraez could still be recognized. He was the bronze rider that filled a separate tub with water so he could soak in rose scent. He was the bronze rider who grew his hair out and twisted the dark locks around golden ornaments. He was the bronze rider who wore make-up simply because no other man in his rank did the same. And he was also the only boy in his Weyrling class to Impress bronze. A turn and a half ago, Naraez had been trapped in the Underground. Now he lounged at the near-top of the Weyr, and R'ghu hated him. If R'ghu had gotten his way, Naraez would have been executed like all the rest of the pirate scum. But that particular raid was led by Shanaie of Benden, and she ordered that women and children be spared. Brissena took many of these women and children from Benden with the claim that Faranth's "holy light" would save their souls. When Tahldorth passed by the proper candidates and called to Naraez, Brissena took this as proof of her convictions.

Oh, if only she could see the bastard now. Naraez grinned like a hyena and shook his head and clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "Weyrleader R'ghu, what _have_ you done? Such a nice chest. _Really_, you _must _be less destructive!"

R'ghu didn't buy the "friendly" tone, though admittedly Naraez didn't try very hard. The Weyrleader tossed the gun back in his bureau and slammed the dresser drawer shut. "What do you want, Naraez?" He turned to glare at the smaller man. "Or are you just annoying everyone because you're bored and it's _obviously_ our job to entertain you?"

Naraez laughed. It reminded R'ghu of being stabbed in the ears with a thousand needles. "Oh, R'ghu, _darling_!" Oh no he didn't— that tone and the hand-wave of dismissal mirrored Brissena perfectly. It his one of R'ghu's nerves and that jackal-faced demon noticed. Bastard. But then the smile wavered, and Naraez's eyes glinted as he spoke, "Stop trying out humor, it doesn't become you. And what makes you think I don't have a reason for being out and about?"

"You're a young bronze rider with no manners nor sense of duty."

The smile became sickening. "If I were looking for_ entertainment_," he hissed, "I wouldn't be _here. _No sense of duty? Pah. I might lack a 'sense of duty' but at least I have another sense." Mock surprise, "Oh, no another sense! Common sense! Wow! Who'd've thought it wouldn't be so common?"

R'ghu sneered and cuffed the side of Naraez's head. The small rider side-stepped to prevent too much shock to his neck, but that left him prone and R'ghu grabbed a fistful of Naraez's smooth ebony hair. He yanked and forced Naraez to look up at him. "Do you _dare_ to insult me?" he snarled.

Most men would have backed down, but Naraez laughed. "Hurt me, bitch, hurt me!" There was a fire in those brown eyes and R'ghu was caught between snapping his neck and backing down. "Or are you too scared? Or perhaps you know as well as I do that killing a _boy_ for 'insulting' you is just ludicrous. That's what _mad _people do!" His last sentence coupled with a giggle.

R'ghu knew Naraez was right. Mad people killed others for silly reasons. R'ghu released him and pushed him back. "Make it quick, then get out of my sight."

R'ghu was disappointed; Naraez staggered to one side and regained his balance instead of crumbling to the floor. The fake smile returned, though the signs of the monster behind the man-flesh remained. "You received a visitor last night?"

"Who?" With a sigh, R'ghu found that his anger had been replaced with exhaustion. He strode across the room and sank into an armchair, Naraez remaining on his heels the entire time.

"A young brown rider." Naraez did not sit and R'ghu did not invite him. "I didn't quite catch his name. We spoke for about ten seconds total: once when I offered him a room for the night and again this morning when I told him you were here."

"Typical." R'ghu massaged his temples. "Send him in."

"Straight away." To R'ghu's surprise, Naraez turned promptly and left the room without incident. For all of a minute, R'ghu was alone and free to enjoy the silence. He was not as young as he used to be, he noticed with some regret, and now he felt exhausted despite doing nothing extreme in the past hour. His headache, however, did not surprise him. A wave of pity passed for the rider that had to endure a night with that _creature_. But any exhaustion and annoyance passed as said brown rider strode into the room.

_Amusing,_ R'ghu commented. Sholanoth agreed. The rider before him was tall, rugged, and lanky. A mess of brown hair was cut around the ears, revealing a strong face. Broad shoulders and a lack of breast could suggest a man, but the young rider was quite distinctly a woman. An _ugly_ woman, but a woman none-the-less. And the more R'ghu watched her as she stared nervously at him and hesitantly took a seat on the chair nearby, the more he found that her charm lied in her lack of "feminine" beauty. For a moment he wished she had no rank so he could add her to his harem. She'd be a wonderful addition to his collection of women. But she had a purpose, even if she had yet to say anything.

He waited.

The silence wore on.

She bit her lip.

Nothing at all.

Finally R'ghu snapped, "That was your cue to speak."

The woman flushed. "Oh." She cleared her throat and wiped her hands on her trousers. "I'm Rushera of brown Leivoth."

R'ghu smirked. "Pleased to meet you, Rushera. I am Weyrleader R'ghu of bronze Sholanoth." She nodded and he took the next motion. "It has come to my attention that you came to visit me last night. Forgive me, I was elsewhere. Though if you wish, I am available tonight—"

For an awkward, grubby-looking girl, she caught on fast. "Weyrleader, I did _not_ come to you for _that_."

Odd. Wouldn't most women kill to sleep with a Weyrleader? Naturally, they all dreamed of N'gha. N'gha was the one with the wheat-colored hair and broad shoulders and handsome face. But R'ghu wasn't close to Enthalda, and that made him the safer route. "Well." Pity. "You have another reason, then? Well, let's hear it."

She nodded. "I—" Rushera closed her eyes and bit the tip of her tongue, then tried speaking again. "I come on behalf of the Lord Topaz—"

"If this is another plea for money, I have already denied—"

"This isn't about money!"

R'ghu found it hilarious that Rushera took offense at that statement. Did she really think that Topaz would ever want anything _but_ money? Ah, to be naïve. "So what does Lord Topaz demand of me this time?"

She forced herself to be stoic, but failed. "The Lord Topaz," each word, said slow, careful— she was biting back anger, R'ghu could tell, "is growing ill. You are aware that he had no children? Well, when he dies, Topaz will have no heir, and with no Lord or Lady to hold the Outpost—"

"Topaz shall fall and the world moves on." Ignoring her look of hurt, R'ghu shrugged. "I can't help his infertility—"

"I'm not asking for that either!" She pounded a fist on her knee. "If you would let me finish, you'd understand!"

"Oh please!" He was laughing openly now. "What could Topaz want that I haven't heard before?"

"Adoption affirmation."

R'ghu never liked to choke on his own words, but there was no denying that Rushera had won this round. "Go on."

He could read everything on her face; what a horrible politician she'd make. "Lord Topaz wishes to adopt me and make me his heir. But only a Weyr can affirm me as his 'rightful heir' so I'm not accused of thievery. I only need a note to confirm that I speak the truth."

Mmm. Hideous as she was, she was a different sort of woman. He could use this opportunity for his own good. But then again, she_ was_ a brown rider. And Sholanoth sent him an image of the brown: the snake-like creature was almost black and long as a smaller bronze. That, and later he could use it for leverage should he need it.

"I will send Naraez to deliver the note tonight," he said.

Her face lit up. "R-really?"

"Yes, really."

"Thank you!" She bowed and then glanced at the door. "So I take my leave?"

"Go!"

He wasn't expecting the burst of anger, but his headache was back and he wanted her gone. Once she left the room, he sat alone and in silence for a good long while. Only when he had finished his sitting did he gather a towel, fresh clothes, and a razor. Then he went to take a shower.

-x-

To get to the Lord's House, she had to pass through the main part of town. Merope loved this part of the day. People crowded the streets. Some headed to work, others to school or market. The pinchers and urchins lurked on every corner, their grubby hands and faces reminding Merope that she could be one of them as well. Here in the market, Svolska could remain on her shoulder and not be scolded. He saved her pockets simply by being there. After all, only the amateurs or the desperate targeted people with fire-lizards. Having spent her younger years picking pockets with the other kids in her neighborhood, Merope knew first-hand what happened to anyone fool enough to push their luck.

The clock tower struck seven-thirty. Merope slowed her pace; she had an hour, thanks to leaving the house early. She tried not to think of her mother. Instead, she focused on a familiar face on a street corner.

"Father Maltark!"

The priest had been handing out prayer beads on the corner. His dark robes billowed with each movement, which, coupled with his pale skin and sunken eyes, made him look like a wraith. He shrank into his tall, awkward frame as Merope pushed through a group of large women and ran up to him.

"Little Merope," he said, "do not call me 'Father'. My name is sufficient."

His constantly grim expression and deadpan tenor wheeze never failed to make Merope grin. "Well, Father, it's weird to call adults by their names. Don't you agree that it's a respect thing?"

Maltark's frown tightened to an irritated line and he exhaled loudly through his nose. "I'm not important enough to deserve constant formality from everyone." A passing boy took a string of beads and tried to annoy the priest by stealing. Rolling his eyes, Maltark tapped the Free Beads sign with his foot. But his attention quickly turned to Merope. "As for being an adult, I _hardly_ consider age to be a factor that makes one _better_ or more deserving. In fact, had I not been forced into remembering it for the past twenty-some years, I would not celebrate my birth day at all."

"Why not?"

"Every year that goes by takes us one step closer to our eventual end." He sighed as he examined a string of pearly blue beads. "It's morbid, really. Getting old. Dying. Birthdays are depressing." The contemplative, far-away look on his face shifted to one of pure cynicism. "That and it's more of a mother's achievement than anything. _She's_ the one that held some idiot in her stomach for nine months. _She's_ the one that had to push the kid out. Yet on birthdays, it's always about the schmuck getting older and not how the mother did something difficult." He scoffed. "Getting older just happens. We should celebrate getting better."

The thing about Maltark was that Merope never understood half of what he said. But that's why he was Mad Maltark, and regardless he was very, very kind to her. She agreed simply because she didn't want him to explain what he had just said. Then she knelt at his feet and looked through his basket of beads. "Maltark," the word came surprisingly easy, "do you like being a priest?"

The man fell silent. Merope took this as a Mad Maltark thing and continued looking at the beads. She lifted out a bright pink set and snickered at the idea of someone actually using them. By the time she shoved them back in the basket, Maltark finished thinking.

"Yes," he said. "I guess I do. I say I don't, but I do. There are things I can't stand, like blessing clutches or attending the Lord's home for his brats' birthday blessings or preaching to the masses. But teaching children, or handing out mundane gifts, or visiting the ill or needy, or listening to the final confessions of the prisoners on Death Row..." Merope glanced up and caught the ever-rare sight of Maltark smiling. "I never want to lose the feeling of doing good. People hurt and I help them. _That_ is why I became a priest, and _that_ is why I stay."

Merope leaned her head against his knee and chewed her hair thoughtfully. It was then that she saw a set of beads that she hadn't seen before. She grabbed them and listed them to the light. "Maltark, these have little red stones in them!"

Maltark stooped and took the necklace from her hands. He examined them with all the care of a jeweler and then held them out. "Garnets, most likely good ones." His dark eyes met hers. "Some of these beads were donated. It's likely that someone wanted garnet beads before the Outpost crumbled, and when Fort destroyed it..."

"So because Garnet Outpost was destroyed, people would throw away perfectly good gemstones?" It sounded like something her father would say, and she said it with the same hatred. "There are people _starving_ over where I live. We've got it good and we don't have a half mark to our name. And then, someone tosses out _that_?"

Maltark's jaw tightened. "Little Merope," he sighed as he stroked her hair, "so many people are fools who think of themselves too highly and take what they have for granted. But know this," he unclasped the necklace and opened it, "when they throw away what they do not want, we can then take what they cast off and make the best of it. In a way, the wasteful aid the wanting." He clasped it around her neck and then placed three fingertips on her forehead. "May the Great Mother guide your path, Daughter of Alari."

She smiled and hugged him, but didn't bother to mention that most of what he said made no sense to her at all. Maltark scratched Svolska on the eye ridge before shooing Merope off. The clock chimed eight, and Merope ran to make sure that she made it to work on time.

-x-

Merope arrived with every intention of scrubbing floors, latrines, and stairwells. But Medri surprised her. "Tomsa's sick as a dog," the Headwoman said. "We need someone not only to take care of her but also to pick up the slack in the kitchens. So far none of the other girls have stepped in. You're close with Tomsa, care to stay for a few days?"

Cooking never sounded so enticing. "I'll get meals, right? And extra pay?" Medri's face tightened and Merope quickly added, "I only really need the meals. The marks are optional."

The Headwoman sighed. "You'll get meals and access to the bathing rooms. As for extra marks..." Her eyes narrowed. "We'll see how you do."

Merope grinned. "I'll start right away, ma'am. I won't let you down, I promise!"

"Good, now get out of my sight."

Merope ran to the kitchens. There she was put under the command of Virna, an older woman who worked alongside Tomsa. Virna was just as friendly as Tomsa, and she taught in a way that could make anyone understand the job at hand. There was plenty of demonstration, and Virna never made Merope feel stupid.

"Tomsa's job is to keep things clean. She moves around a lot so it's not easy work. It might not seem very interesting or glamorous, but it's very important in a kitchen like this. Messy stations make people ill and can cause fires. It's also her job to fill in for anyone should they leave their station for any reason, so be prepared to ask for help."

All while she talked, Virna showed Merope around the kitchen and explained where everything was kept. Breakfast clean-up began immediately after, and Merope had to learn the nitty gritty details on her feet. Several times a kitchen worker would yell that she was doing something wrong. The first time this happened, Merope had to bite back tears until the woman apologized and then explained that they always yelled to make sure everyone could hear the important things over the chatter. After that, Merope didn't take the yelling personally.

The cleaning finished bast, and by that time Merope was exhausted. She didn't eat breakfast and looked fit to faint. But lunch preparation was starting and there was work to be done. Merope pulled a few pans from a work station before Virna dragged her aside and stuffed a meat roll in her mouth.

"You're skin and bones as it is," she scolded. "Sit and eat. If you collapse on the job, you'll be more of a bother than if you weren't working, so just take a break and eat."

Virna gave her a slice of red-fruit and a sweetroll to eat as well, and Merope devoured these with wolf-like hunger. Then she washed her hands and rejoined Virna in clearing stations and cleaning dishes. She soon discovered that her job also entailed fetching ingredients or utensils and delivering messages. She made plenty of mistakes, but the women were forgiving and Merope took care to never make the same mistake twice. "A temporary kitchen assistant will never be perfect," one of the cooks said, "but they're better than nothing."

Finally, both the Lord's Lunch and the servants' lunch were almost ready. At that point, a familiar face entered the kitchen. The head cook, a broad, gold-skinned woman named Faye, grabbed a basket and instinctively tossed in portions of the servants' meal. "Does your father know you're leaving, Lady Illska?"

Merope glanced up from the counter that she was scrubbing. Lo and behold, the tall, dark-haired Illska Gajick stood near Virna with a roguish grin on her thin face. "Naw," she scoffed. "He'll find out as per the usual way. I've got my own life, and eating lunch in a silk gown is not a part of it." Given Ska's appearance, silk dresses didn't seem to fit into any part of her life. Her dark hair had been braided and tied up on her head to keep it stable, and she wore a pair of filthy riding breeches. Laying across her back was a flintlock rifle, and Ska seemed like just the kind of person who would know how to use it.

"So you're headed out riding? Where to?"

"'Course, Faye. I'm going out into the Spine, and I'll be back around dinner."

Faye glanced up and arched a brow. Regardless of her obvious disapproval, she handed Ska the basket. "You'd better be careful with your traveling, milady. There're bandits that would kidnap you in a heartbeat."

Ska laughed. "I've got Pete and a gun. They might be rare, but everyone knows that riding wherries can kill a man. And if you shoot one bandit, the rest will scatter. They ain't nothing but cowardly thieves. 'Sides, my dad's never pay a ransom for me. Uarz or Boaz, maybe, but _certainly_ not me. I'm sure the bandits know that."

One of the younger cooks called, "Oh, Lady Illska, have more faith in your father! He'd certainly want to save you should you be captured!"

"Nah." Ska shrugged and turned for the door. "I ain't got a penis and not even the most _desperate_ of Lords' sons would _ever_ want to marry me."

"Why not, milady?" Virna seemed to be concerned, but Ska either didn't notice or didn't care.

"'Cause I make them look like the two-bit sheltered wimps that they really are. Men don't like the fact that I can ride an animal, shoot a gun, or fix a machine better'n they can." Her roguish grin returned. "Which is all good for me. We all know how _men_ think, don't we?" A few women giggled. Ska glanced at Faye. "I'll be back. And Virna, I can take care of myself, so don't worry!"

Ska's departure signaled the calm in the kitchen pace, since it only took a few more preparations to get the meals ready. And then they were served. As kitchen-hand, Merope got first pick of the servants' meal. The Lord and his court came for their meal, which they took in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen. The door didn't keep the sound out of the kitchen, so Virna, Faye, and several other women crowded around the door in silence and listened as Dakq discussed important events over the lunch table. For lack of better things to do, Merope joined them.

"Lord G'mai is growing weaker," one man droned. "He should be dying soon, and then we can finally cut ties from Topaz."

"They're already giving the bare minimum," Faye whispered. "Arestal feeds Topaz and Garnet used to do the same. Rabastre's _never_ helped Lord G'mai."

"He's done so much for us, too," Virna added. "He's stopped nearly a hundred pirate raids in his lifetime, and so many of them have never even made it to Rabastre. And what have we ever done to thank him?"

"Nothing," Faye growled, "because Topaz is _such_ a bother."

"Shh!" Loddi, a whey-faced waif of a cook, lifted one of her little fingers. "They're discussing the guests coming this week."

The hush returned and a female voice, likely Lady Mokeda, could be heard. "Lord G'mai is, unfortunately, coming, though he is bringing a guest."

"Really?"

"Yes, quite true. Fortunately the other guests make up for_ that _little failure. Lord Amethyst and his family are coming. Lord Arestal is bringing his Lady and daughter. Lord Jade has another arrangement, but Lady Jade will come with with Lord Tillek. Lord Sapphire will be there, so remind Illska to wear the nicest dress she owns and make a good impression before the _other _leeches swoop in."

"And of the Weyrleaders?"

"Nothing from Benden, alas, and Telgar is unavailable. However, Weyrwoman Brissena and Weyrleader R'ghu have promised an arrival. And Weyrwoman Enthalda might arrive with a 'personal party', which most likely includes Weyrleader N'gha, Lady Ruatha, and N'gha's younger brother."

The hush went from eager to cold. The rest of the conversations stood pale next to _that_ bit of news. No talk came from the kitchen-women until the dining room was empty.

Faye spoke first. "We've all heard the stories about Enthalda, so let's not go telling them again."

"My_ brother _worked in that woman's kitchen," snapped a dark-haired cook. "I don't care _what_ you have to say about fear and stories and lies, but I believe that woman is _sick_ and _evil_ and she should burn in the largest pit we can find!"

"Does she really wear human skin?" Loddi chimed.

"I've seen her once!" declared a young kitchen assistant. "She had fire in her eyes and razor sharp teeth, and in one hand she held the still-beating heart of a child!"

"Enough!" Faye's bellow shook the door frame and forced the kitchen into silence. "Ladies, we have dinner to prepare. Unless y'all _want_ to lose your jobs, shut up and get to work."

The pace began slow, though it soon quickened to the morning rush. But Virna still found time to scratch Merope's back and whisper, "They're only telling stories, dear. Don't let them scare you."

For the first time in a long time, Merope enjoyed her work. It was hard and demanding, but everyone was so nice and the feeling of having a family made the work matter less. If only she could work in the kitchens forever...

-x-

After a bath and a platter of food, R'ghu settled himself in his study and pretended to do something other than sit in his favorite chair and think. Sholanoth talked to him when the bronze had something to say, but it was to the point where they both knew each others' thoughts on almost everything. This eventually crossed his mind, and then he realized that he had not asked Sholanoth anything about Alasta.

_Sho._

The bronze had dozed off, but he was easily awakened. _Yes, R'ghu?_

_Talk to me about Rabastre. _The dragon was confused, so R'ghu specified, _Have you ever felt... A power there?_

Now the bronze could answer the question. _Yes, yes. A great talent, too, among the strongest I've ever felt. And I'm a horrible Search dragon, you know that._

Yes. _This_ was what R'ghu wanted. _Is it the kind of human that can talk to dragons?_

_A human... _Sholanoth rumbled on his ledge. _Yes, now that I remember, it is a human. She talks so easily that I first thought she was a dragon._

That was it! The last free girl who could Hear dragons! She could be more powerful than Fort's best Listener, and then they could use that power to topple the Icon and give the power to those that deserved it: he and Brissena.

_We'll have to collect Alasta._

_Why?_

R'ghu sighed. _She's the _source_ of the power, isn't she?_

It was Sholanoth's turn to scoff. _No._ The bronze took on a haughty tone. _That woman is talentless. The Search blues agree._

No.

No.

No. R'ghu had been _certain_ that _she_ was the source of the energy. After all, it came from _her_ house. _Who is the power, then?!_

Sholanoth rumbled. _The Little Fledgeling._

_What? _R'ghu didn't need to ask, though. Sholanoth sent an accompanying image. His stomach turned. Merope. Merope? _Merope!_ _She_ was the Blessed one? And _he_ had wasted his time wooing the mother when he could have played off Merope's dreams and took her straight away to the Weyr?

He would have gone straight to Rabastre. But a loud explosion shook the Weyr. Immediately following this was the sound of a chaos that consumed the entire Weyr. Then the high, whining voice of Airunth pierced through the din.

_R'ghu, we had a fire in the kitchens! A gas pipe exploded! Brissena requires your assistance and guidance. Please, come immediately!_

R'ghu cursed his timing. So he couldn't go to Rabastre immediately. But he could go the next day, if only to grab the girl and leave.

-x-

**I'm excited. I get to introduce one of my favorites in the next chapter— well, introduce him in more detail.**

**Mmm twelve pages excluding the notes and lyrics. I think that was the length of my hand-written pages.**


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